Let me tell you of a horrifying experience I had on Friday while grocery shopping with my brother. I have NEVER seen this before in my life, not EVER!!!! And I hope I never do again. This has potential nightmare imagery for years to come.
I rounded the corner with my cart after looking for Lily's Whisker Lickin's (Really, Purina???? Do you REALLY want an apostrophe there??? I just may have to call them.....) and headed for the meat aisle to check out their reduced meat section. And there she was.
There was this young girl shopping with another girl. I'd put them in their late teens or early 20's. And the girl pushing the cart had on a pair of sweatpants. The sweatpants were pink. I knew this because emblazoned across the ass of the material was the word PINK, printed in huge white letters. Otherwise, DUH, how would I know? The word PINK, though, wasn't located across her ass, but rather was considerably further south of its intended target.
Yes, this woman had yanked her sweatpants down, gansta style, and you've seen the look many times. You wonder how in the hell the pants stay up to begin with, because the waist of the pants are down at the kneecaps and there's a bunch of poofy boxer shorts hanging out at the top. Attractive, huh? I always get the urge to scream, "PULL UP YOUR FREAKIN' PANTS, YOU RUM-DUM!!" So far, I've managed to keep my thoughts to myself and my lips zipped, a task which seems to get more and more difficult for me as I steadily march with the assistance of my artificial hips toward my Golden Years.
But in the case of this particular woman, there was a problem, Houston. She wasn't wearing any underwear. And there, right before me, was about six looooong inches of butt crack. Seriously. No exaggeration. And when she bent to take a closer look at the chicken legs, I got a wonderful view of all KINDS of physiology. Now I can honestly say that I've seen Death Valley.
